


867-53o9

by SecretScribbles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, aot, snk - Fandom
Genre: Clubbing, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mikasa's POV, More Fluff, No time for that just yet, Other, all my angsty stuff involves chapters, cuteness abounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretScribbles/pseuds/SecretScribbles
Summary: I hate clubs. I mean I can tolerate them well enough, but I really hate clubs. They’re loud, dark, and usually full of either drunk or high people. Very touchy drunk or high people. The only real saving grace of the place would have to be my friends, if I’m to be entirely honest...I love dancing to his twist in the tune with my friends. The problem with dancing in public, however, is that you usually need a partner, and I’m not very fond of grinding with a stranger who expects more later on in the night. Which brings me to this character eyeing me from across the room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, gutsy move trying Mikasa's POV for the first time but hey, that's me.
> 
> Props to the wonderful SangtaeDubu for being the beta for this random thought I had after watching 'An Extremely Goofy Movie' on a whim. Go to him. Love him. He is fabulous.

\---

 

I hate clubs. I mean I can tolerate them well enough, but I really hate clubs. They’re loud, dark, and usually full of either drunk or high people. Very touchy drunk or high people. The only real saving grace of the place would have to be my friends, if I’m to be entirely honest. 

 

Eren, or Shifter, as his followers call him, has a steady gig going here twice a month along with a few other bars along the strip. His music is trendy, and usually ends up with half the bar shouting his stage name by the end of the night. Armin works as both the head chef and part time bartender here at Rosewall, and has this odd intuition of what food to make with each drink he mixes for his customers. At the moment I’m enjoying one of his pastries with a mocha martini he made with chile-infused vodka. He certainly is a genius when it comes to complimenting his kitchen.

 

My seat isn’t too far away from Eren’s set, and I can see him in his element behind his turntable, popping his gum from the big, pink bubbles that he loves to blow. Part of his character, he explained once. Said it made him look playful, and I would have to agree. The song he was rearranging for his own purposes was catchy, and soon enough the crowd he already had was growing faster with the people who recognized the music. 

 

I myself found Eren’s music appealing as well. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t. He DJs every party we go to, and I love dancing to his twist in the tune with my friends. The problem with dancing in public, however, is that you usually need a partner, and I’m not very fond of grinding with a stranger who expects more later on in the night.

 

Which brings me to this character eyeing me from across the room. Sandy blonde with a dark undercut, skinny but muscular, and a v-neck so tight I could probably count each individual muscle if I were close enough. He’s smiling wryly at me, and when Armin brings him his drink he notions to me lightly. I have the sense not to make eye contact and Armin tries his best to talk him down, but then the man says something to Armin that brings a peculiar smile to his lips and he shakes his head as the man walks up to my table.

 

“May I sit?” he asks.

 

My eyes never leave him as he waits for me to finish my sip. “You don’t want to dance?” 

 

The grin turns into a smirk. “Not until I finish with some business.”

 

This peaks my interest. No one has ever referred to flirting as ‘business’ before, and I can’t help but wonder just how badly he’s going to fail. Really, that’s the only reason I talk to anybody in these bars. I’m not the type to find a solid relationship through drinks and my friends know this, so when I finally wave my glass over to the open seat, Armin can only chuckle behind his bar.

 

“Thanks,” the guy mutters, then takes a sip from his mug. He’s still eyeing me even when he sighs out his satisfaction at the taste. “My name’s Jean.” 

 

“Mikasa,” I answer before he can ask.

 

“I know.”

 

Okay, creepy. I cock a brow at this but say nothing, and I think he expects this.

 

“We met last month,” he explains. “You gave me your number.”

 

Oh. Crap.

 

“Pretty clever, Tommy Tutone.” There’s that stupid, amused grin again. “I didn’t realize it was a fake until I called it later that night. Had the song stuck in my head for a week.”

 

My expression is calm and collected; this isn’t the first time I’ve been confronted by one of my rejects before and it certainly won’t be the last. At least he had the sense to call instead of text or send pictures. I vaguely remember him now, he had complimented my hair and bought me at least three drinks if I’m remembering the right guy. That’s right, I remember those eyes now. Said he wouldn’t leave until he knew that he could talk to me again, so I gave him what he wanted. How charming.

 

I set my glass down and lace my fingers together as I lean my elbows on the table, eyeing him now. “So what now? Round two?”

 

Jean laughs and sets his glass down as well. “Hardly. From what little I know of you, I can already tell you can kick my ass at anything I try against you; wits included.” 

 

Well, he’s not wrong. 

 

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk with you again after that, to be honest.” He licks his lips and captures my eyes again. “See, when I called your number, somebody actually answered- and boy, was he pissed.”

 

Well, this is interesting.

 

“When I tell him I’m looking for Mikasa, he gets even more upset.” Jean rubs the end of his nose and leans forward closer to my space. “This guy starts telling me that he keeps on getting these random people sending him sexy texts and calls and dick-pics and he just can’t stand turning down your rejects anymore. He went on for a good ten minutes.”

 

“Sorry you had to go through that.” Welcome to my world. “Guy sounds like a real piece of work.” 

 

Jean shakes his head. “Not really. Honestly, I think I caught him on a bad day, because the guy is sweeter than sugar.”

 

I cock a brow again. “Oh?”

 

“Yep,” Jean’s smirk is playful, almost cocky. “He apologized afterwards but the poor guy was worn out. Sounded like he got the crap beat out of him.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t really in the best mood either, considering. Thing is, though, we ended up talking because he kept trying to make me feel better and I just wanted him off the phone.”

 

I have to stifle a snicker behind my glass with another sip. “If he’s had to go through all this trouble, then why doesn’t he change his phone number?”

 

“See, I asked him the same question.” Jean takes another sip as well. “Thing is, he loves old music. Absolutely adores it. He actually paid to have that phone number because he liked the song. Poor thing was being punished for his pleasures.”

 

Okay, now I feel kind of bad.

 

“Alright,” I tell him. “I’ll stop using that number.” 

 

Jean grins, but this one is a little more genuine. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, then eyes me up and down again. “But that’s not the whole reason I’m here.”

 

My face falls flat and I have to take the last swig of my drink before I turn him down again. Armin catches my eye and I nod, tipping my empty glass in his direction for a refill. “If you failed to catch my interest last time then what makes you think that anything has changed?”

 

Jean shook his head. “Oh, I’m not asking you out.”

 

What.

 

“I’m thanking you.”

 

What?

 

His smile is actually genuine now, no mirth whatsoever. “By the time I ended the phone call it was probably around three in the morning and I had no idea we had talked that long,” he explains. “I’ve never really been able to converse easily with people but with him, it just came so naturally. So, I called him again. And again, and again, and again; until we both decided that, hey, maybe we should hang out. Again, and again, and again.” He says this slowly to emphasize his point, then takes a moment to take a few, deep drinks from his mug before continuing.

 

“I’ve learned a lot about him, and found out what a great guy he is. He’s made me see things differently, makes me think, makes my life better because of it.” Jean leans forward again to cross his arms over the table. “You introduced me to my best friend. So, I’m here to say thank you.”

 

A waitress brings over my drink and takes my empty glass, pausing a moment to ask if Jean would like a refill as well. He turns her down politely, but never takes his eyes off me as he relaxes back into his seat.

 

“I’m about to dance,” he tells her. “I’d rather have my hands on someone instead of something.”

 

When she leaves, Jean smiles at me again and opens his mouth to speak, but a movement catches his eye and he turns to see a tanned man in a blue flannel shirt. He’s waving to Jean with a bright smile, to which Jean smiles and waves back.

 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Jean asks, still turned away from me.

 

“You really need to work on your gloating,” I tell him. “You sound far too genuine.”

 

He snickers at that, then turns to face me again. “Guess I’m out of practice. He’s got me all sorts of backwards.”

 

I nod to the flannel man. “That the number guy? Your ‘best friend?’”

 

“Yep,” he says softly. “That’s my Marco.”

 

Jean takes a moment to finish his drink then waves to Eren, catching his attention before he can play the next song. ‘Shake Your Groove Thing’ begins to play and a collection of people start to laugh at his choice, but the man in flannel completely lights up. “Hate to drink and run,” Jean says. “But I tipped the guy a fifty to play the next three songs and I am not wasting a single second.” He smiles to me again. “Have a nice night, Mikasa.”

 

With that, he’s gone; walking to the beat of the music towards this supposed Marco who is positively beaming at him. The two start dancing once they meet in the middle, and Jean plants a kiss to Marco’s lips after twirling him around, causing them both to break into giggles once they pull barely an inch apart. Armin is watching the two as well and manages to sync up with me as I turn to look at him. He smiles, and so do I.

 

‘Best friend,’ he had called him. Not boyfriend, not lover, not booty-call. That was the type of relationship I had been looking for, and by the looks of things, I guess I missed out on my chance. The longer I watch those two dance, though, the more I don’t mind. They really do look perfect for each other. I smile as well and set my drink down on the table to go see Eren. If Jean can choose a song, then so can I. Here’s hoping he still likes Tommy Tutone.

 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Two years later, Mikasa is invited to the wedding, Eren DJs with music he christens as "older than sin," and Armin gets everyone drunk with tasty treats. Of course their wedding song is Tommy Tutone.


End file.
